


A Different Exchange

by White_choco0



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: 18th Century, Attempted Murder, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, Mystery, Religious Conflict, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_choco0/pseuds/White_choco0
Summary: Lord Diavolo is forced to take extreme measures in response to unorthodox events in order to salvage the dwindling relations with the human world.
Relationships: Lucifer & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

  
Even in your detrimentally perplexed state of mind, you still found it funny. But funny only lasted for an appropriate two seconds before fear reared its hideously imposing head in your mind. 

The instigator of your fear was none other than a proudly standing, ominous appearing, goth-like mansion standing before you; utterly indifferent to your panic bubbling to the surface. 

"Right..." you had said aloud, lips molded against their twin for a gentle second, "what's all this then?" 

'All this' was horribly inexplicable, terribly foreign, though if you were being honest, the eerie nature of the vicinity reigned above all other descriptors. You shifted on your unprecedented seat--the ground--and studied your surroundings in intensive scrutiny but nothing ignited any signs of familiarity, nothing was recognizable here and the darkness of this night was hardly being any more kinder than the ground twigs poking your legs. 

Justifiably, you were at a loss. You did not know what to do, you do not recall the last ordeal in which you'd lost the ability to make a wise decision. Things were certainly not looking good for your feeble body but you suppose there was some mirth to this situation. If learning was something you valued, and you highly did, then this would be another form of gaining insightful experience perhaps in survival or dabbling with monsters. Thus far you had really only ever learned from thick, bland text books and frankly, a change of pace was long overdue. 

But oh, who were you kidding? Monsters weren't real, even if this place was like a testimony of their existence. Quite confusing yes, it all was as you nodded to yourself. 

You tapped you chin. What would the Professor do in this unorthodox predicament? With his dashing smile and habitual hair smoothing, he'd probably pull out a pen and notepad and document his findings. 

Yes, that's exactly what he'd do and likely what you should as well. Patting your attire, you felt the rectangular outline of your most prized possession--a journal--and in a pocket hidden over the expanse of your forearm's sleeve, encountered the familiar jagged texture of your writing tool. 

You reaped the fruits of your exploration of your clothing and immediately did away with the blank spaces of a page. Your inputs were short and explicit.

'No moon in sight' 

Odd indeed for it was supposed to be only the second week of the month. 

'Frightening abode that is humble in the least'

While you did find it disconcerting, the aura and architecture as well as color pallet, you couldn't deny the favorable tale it told of wealth with only its outer appearance. You could imagine the inside and imagine what little progress you'd make dawdling around. Hence why you continued to make observations. 

'A very sad tree with jutting roots and branches and very much naked'

With every tree and its dark, hardened bark and the gloomy, cold aura, you felt like you had entered some kind of death chamber, but that could not be since you were out in the open after all. 

Your hand began to work again, conscience becoming aware of your state;

'Cold frigid grou-

Speaking of which, why in the heavens were you still upon the uncomfortable ground? There was absolutely no necessity to be sat and risk marring your skin, or worse--the fabric of your dress. 

You assumed the Professor would not take kindly to discovering that the money invested in your tailored outfit was for naught due to your carelessness. You hence gathered your skirts with a huff and straightened your legs, standing still within this place of the unknown and surrounded by the chiming crickets and echoed hoots of hidden owls. 

Examining your surroundings an umpteenth time, your eyes could finally make out a pathway leading into a gargantuan mound of black that likely was a forest; you agreed with yourself to never step foot near the premise. As for what lay ahead...

The mansion was indeed large, you had to crane your neck to glimpse at one end to the other and the height of it was nothing to scoff at either. It seemed every window glowed with a saturated yellow, most likely candle lighting in the rooms making it so. You quickly scribbled down that you found a sensible use to the metaphor caught between a rock and a hard place. 

The woods were out of the question to venture in and the house was your only next immediate option to walk towards. You knew your chances of survival were all the better than being a distressed damsel in a pitch dark forest and yet as you stepped up to the uninviting gates surrounding the mansion, you felt as uneasy as if you were lost in said woods. 

Stuffing away your journal and pencil, you glanced around to find something that would help convey your presence. Your eyes finally landed on a quaint bell, atop it a miniature wicked figure, likely brass, with horns and unnerving grin plastered across its mushed face. 

No matter, it was up to you to decide if you'd risk dying simply because of creepy imagery. You had nothing to fear! The Professor's manor was equally frightening as was any other when cloaked by the night. Indeed you felt a sizzling of courage suddenly come alight and with unforeseen confidence, seized grasp of the Clapper's tug. 

You gave it rough handling, the noisy collision causing a pandemonium of sound on its own so grand that what you had assumed to have been dried leaves on the naked bark of the tree, suddenly sprouted wings and flocked together off, merging into the black of the sky. The screeching cries of the ravens frightened you and scuffed any remnants of boldness, your arms shielded your face as a tremble shook your entire body. 

It seemed now that you were paranoid, every sound sent you to the edge, flitting eyes and clammy palms ringing the bell. With the disturbance you had caused and therefore sound, it felt as though any moment now, a beast that had emerged from its slumber would come crawling out of the forest hungry for flesh. Boy did your imagination run rampant in the darkness complimented by loud noises! 

Suddenly, the creaking sound of abused hinges broke through your panicked episode and then induced it once more. You couldn't remind yourself to smoothen your appearance as the door beyond the gate seemed to open purposefully slow, as if to build the tension and therefore anxiousness you found yourself enslaved to. 

The door only continued to roll on its disturbing hinges, each second revealing a larger spill of the yellow glow you'd seen on the windows. The events were occurring in slow motion, at least that is how you interpreted the moment from how high strung you were, and all you could do was watch as they unfolded to reveal-

You gasped, nearly choked on your spit but managed to regain control of your body. Had your sanity dissolved or were your eyes truly not jesting you? Could it be you had visited the fabled land of giants? 

-Could the figure at the middle of the opened doorway indeed be tangible and not a figment of your jittery imagination? If so, this person was indeed as tall and large as they appeared, they surpassed the Professor who himself was the tallest man you'd ever laid eyes upon. 

You pulled the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer, knuckles white as your wide eyes remained glued to the unmoving figure. When your voice finally found it's way out of your mouth, it was by stumbles, "P-pardon me? It seems I am lost-"

Tried to speak you may have done but you likely were not assertive enough as the person, betraying their initial silence, interrupted you halfway through your statement. 

"Who are you?" It was a chilling sound! The voice that interrupted you. Deep and ominous and very much befitting the surrounding environment. If all the hairs covering your body hadn't already been standing, they certainly were now. 

You couldn't see the person's face but could identify that they were very obviously a man, no, no man could be that tall and exude the level of uncanniness such as what stood before you. It was a rude thought, a thought nonetheless.

You swallowed, tremor on your lips impairing the clarity of your words, "I-I am-" you managed to choke out your name before rushedly adding, "I am also the apprentice of Professor Psudovix, Ignatius Psudovix! Y-you might know of him from his books, he has published quite a few, they are quite w-widespread indeed, all the way to China last I heard-" 

_Don't ramble you fool_! You knocked the base of your palm to your forehead, recalling the disapproving gazes of the Professor when you engaged in over zealous behavior like rambling and oversharing. 

After a deep sigh and ignoring the fact that the resident of the vicinity had only been standing perfectly still without uttering a word, you said, "I am truly very sorry to be a bother but I have lost my way and do not know where I am at all. Would it be too much trouble if you could point me to the nearest station, I need to travel back to England if that is not where I already am." Your tone was hopeful and all the same edged with resignation, you didn't know where you'd be come tomorrow and things so far weren't looking too bright for your luck. This was bound to be a long winded day- er... night. 

It was nice to receive an answer however, but if you were being honest, it sounded more like a question. The stranger had uttered, "Emgland?" and you immediately felt some tension dissipate for whatever reason. 

This prompted you to straighten your back as you peered through the gaps of the gate, "Yes! England," you called a little more enthusiastically, "it is where my professor is currently stationed at. I really must be going back, he is likely very worried of my unprecedented absence-" once again you cut yourself short, reeling in the nervous fiddling that your fingers did with anything they could reach. 

You looked up from the ground as you heard the home owner once more speak, "Going back? Why would you do that?" 

.

.

.

"Hehe," you chuckled, albeit uneasily, "because I really mustn't be about without my Professor being unaware of my whereabouts-"

"Tell me," he cut you off, making you flinch at the sterness and domineering tone of his voice, "are you human?" 

It felt like your mouth was stripped of all the moisture. The singly query made you self aware of the situation all over again. The icy chills that had slithered down your spine earlier had returned to torment you further. You had no other mind than to go about this interaction as if you were walking on eggshells. Unsure you had been already, but a new wave of disconcernment was felt with the question. Who asks another person, whether they are human or not? 

Never mind the coarseness of such an inquiry, the unease and uncanniness would be enough to set anyone in their right mind on a mission to flee the spot, even if cozy warm light spilled from the windows of a grandiose mansion. A grandiose mansion with a gloomy, frightening appearance and a horrifying and unearthly host to compliment it.

All of a sudden, the forest was looking less forsaken. You had assumed this mansion only appeared frightening because it was night currently, but the owner wasn't doing much to paint it as a safe haven. You rather not prolong your stay at his doorstep any longer given the alarms blaring in your head to find an alternative solution to your problem. 

You felt ice cold as a gush of wind blew past you, making you too aware of the perspiration all over your body. You chattered out, "A-actually, I believe I heard clamoring in the distance." You hadn't, but you went on, "I will just be on my way to the village or town nearby. My sincerest apologies once again if I posed a nuisance." You hardly gave your counterpart time to respond, turning on your heel promptly and scurrying away. 

As you hurried along, the whistling wind ravaged you but you were determined to place distance between the bizarre host and yourself. You stopped dead in your tracks however, when you were steps away from the thick shrubbery. A cold chill ran down your spine, more frigid than the gusts that howled. You only took another measly step when that same unnerving voice surpassed the wind's tune, "The forest is hardly the place for humans to be wondering about."

That damndest and casual use of the word 'human'. It was like he was naming any other animal species and you didn't like it, not one bit. 

To not have to face them, you refused to turn around, you clenched your fist and ground your teeth as you swallowed the fear- well, tried to anyway, "I think I will be alright, I am certain I can find the village-"

"There is no village, or town, or even home," He said, your stomach dropped at the information but you remained skeptical, "it is purely forest full of bloodthirsty beasts, many of which haven't fed in days and are hungry for a _scrumptious_ delicacy." If you didn't know any better, you'd say you were being taunted with how distastefuly addressed you. ' _Scrumptious delicacy_ '!? The nerve. 

"I see..." you replied, indignant from his words and all the more surprised that you could hear one another with the distance between you both. It was certainly odd and worth raising your eyebrow for. Even with the blurbs he had provided you with, you felt the underlying presence of deceit and decided against abiding by his fear inducing statements, "I appreciate your concern," he had sounded anything but, "however, I will figure a way to find the nearest station. I wouldn't want to intrude on your evening." 

You would never know that this stranger was losing his patience, you could only tell through his crisp words that you had said something upsetting. Nevertheless, something was definitely off when he replied, "It'd be no trouble, really. Why don't you come in? Standing in the cold surely isn't a hobby of yours is it?" It sounded generous and yet fatal. 

Something within you told you your only option was limited to accepting his invitation; As a result, you felt obligated to turn and so you did, cautiously stepping up to the gate once more as you meekly mumbled in reply, "N-no." Was your body being ruled by the promise of a warm haven for the night or was it really you making the choice? You didn't feel out of the ordinary and yet something wasn't sitting right when you heard yourself accept his offer. 

And simply like that, had your resilience dissipated and the host's tone lighten. 

"Good," the person exclaimed and suddenly the gates of the doors spread open, hinges creaking horribly loud that it caused another flock of ravens to take off, this time from the forest behind you. You visibly jolted, clutching the fabric of your clothing as you realized you nor he had touched the gate. "Come along then, there's a freshly brewed pot of tea waiting."

"T-that sounds pleasant," you squeaked, looking down at the path leading up to the main door. One cautious step followed another, and the closer you approached the stranger, the more you felt any hope of remaining alive slip away. As extreme as it might've sounded, this place made you feel as if you were signing a death sentence.

And you didn't know, that that was exactly what you committed to the moment you stepped through the brightly lit doorway and stood before the mysterious home owner. The light was no longer blinding as you were enveloped within it. You could see _him_ now. 

"Let's see," he said, looking down at you. Now that you were in an illuminated space, you could see that this home owner was worth gazing at for hours. A beautiful visage, delicate and yet detailed by the very hand of God to appear as the face of masculine, and yet delicately, essence. You would have run your fingers through his full hair until they were lost in that abysmal black had you not any common sense and self restraint. 

His eyes were especially drawing, crimson like the blood that ran erratically under your skin. And although drawing, they were nothing but eyes of a foe, you knew instantly that your trust could not be given to this individual. 

"You poor thing," he said, pulling your focus away from the spinning of your mind. "you're trembling," the home owner pointed out and you realized it only when you released your clenched fist and looked down at it. Indeed it shook, violently, but not from the cold, it was your body subconsciously reacting to the danger you felt. 

"I shall fetch you something warmer," he declared, pausing with a mildly shocked expression, "Oh! Of course if it'd be fine by you, M'lady." 

You briskly nodded, breathing out a 'thank you' before your eyes caught the images on the wall. Well firstly, you had actually noticed the dual grand staircases pivoting towards one another and joining at the obscured second floor. The expensive decoration and intricately woven carpets as well as carved walls were the next immediately noticeable aspects of this foyer. 

The Professor had many antiques, but his collection clearly did not amount to anything as valuable and precious appearing as the trinkets that table surfaces donned. And now back to the paintings, each depicting strange and twisted images. 

You couldn't find a word that wasn't associated to provoking disturbance that would do justice to the nature of the images. They were all a mix of dark and muddy colors, the only resplendent hue being red which did seem present as a speck or overwhelmingly large on the canvas. 

You turned to your host, his piercing red eyes-

"This way," you hadn't noticed he had made his way well past the entrance. You stood a little frozen, unable to process how quickly and silently he had made his way so far in so little time. 

But with his apparent haste you made no further efforts to question it, after all, you had the vague clue that this would be likely the least unusual thing you'd come across here. 

"Excuse me!" You said, scurrying past him with your head bowed a little. Upon entering the hallway, you got a whiff of a strange, emitted scent. A strange, _unpleasant_ scent. 

You were on the verge of covering your nose when your host said, "You came at a perfect time, my brothers and I were having a special dinner."

"O-oh, I was wondering where that scrumptious aroma was coming from," you chuckled nervously. Nothing edible could smell like that, you were certain but decorum called for a polite tongue and calling this person's dinner foul smelling would likely not come off too politely. 

"Is that so?" He asked, the corner of his lip curled non excessively but still off-puttingly. You smiled and nodded, going along to his corralling down the hall. 

Your heels clanked loudly with every clumsy step you took, making you grimace in slight embarrassment. Normally you were so well put together and rigid but today was not any normal day. You were shackled to the chain of uncertainty that was today's events. They'd only become more uncertain as aforementioned;

The man, with his black hair swaying, glanced at you sideways and said, "You seem tense, is there anyway I could help relieve your worries?"

You shook your head softly,"I am doing absolutely marvelous. However I do have a question."

"Hm," he hummed, offering a small smirk, "well be assured that I'll answer to the best of my ability. Go on"

Your lip was worried beneath your teeth, released just to quickly blurt out, "Where exactly are we?" 

The person stopped and you followed suit, looking into his incredulous eyes made you feel jittery and nervous. Had you messed up? Said something you shouldn't have? What was going to happen- 

"You mean to say..." he paused for an anxiety inducing second, "that you don't know where you are?"

"I'm afraid not," you explained, "you see, that was why I was hoping to be directed towards the nearest station, or at least a town."

"Why would you need to head to town?" He inquired. Had he not heard your earlier introduction? Was he jesting? No matter how you looked at it, his perplexion was as genuine as yours and the accompanying fear you dealt in the very depths of your stomach. 

You answered dumbly, "To uh, find my way home if not at the very least find a place to spend the night."

His watchful eyes narrowed once the last syllable left your lips and you were left to wonder if once again, you had uttered something strange. You were beginning to feel as if you weren't the one saying strange things. 

Then, as if he had reached a mind boggling conclusion that resolved this entire problem, the man chortled gently, "Ah, I see. It appears you hadn't been notified."

"Pardon me asking but of what have I not been notified of?" You inquired, briskly walking to keep up to his hasty pace. He had given you no time to react when he suddenly took off again and now you were panting, trying to walk at his speed with the weight of a million petticoats riddled on your body. 

He looked at you as if you were silly for asking that, and proceeded to say, "Arrangements have been made for you to stay with my brothers and I here, in the House of Lamentation." 

"What-" you couldn't even get your question asked as you were interrupted. 

"Of course you needn't worry about being eaten-"

" _Eaten_!?" You cried, seriously freaking out. Now you were sprinting, fabric bunched up in your arms as you, in complete disbelief, set your eyes on the nonchalant host. 

"Yes, you see if you were to stay in the town, you'd likely be approached by lesser breeds looking for a snack-"

"Forgive my forwardness but your humor," you pursued your lips, eyes flitting about and trying to find something to focus on. You finally saw a vase, red and bright and expensive, and hurled out, "your humor is absolutely awful. I'm not at all as entertained as I am afraid."

The host paused and looked at you curiously, lip pursing before saying, "Please highlight the humorous aspects in my most latest statements." His head did a small tip to the side and you had half the mind to deliver a slap to his face, and you would have, if you could reach it. 

Instead you chose to explain, "Well you see, everything you have said thus far has sounded frankly, preposterous," you admitted, "it makes little to no sense that you would reassure me that I will not be eaten. How then, I ask you, how then am I supposed to react other than assume you are playing a cruel joke on me, sir?" 

He was quiet, almost as if the words had absconded. Despite the soreness of the situation, you held his intense stare and waited for when he'd opt to elaborate or lest he should feel it in his mercy to enlighten you even a twinge. You were already looking at him when his lips began to move at long last, "I see... I had thought you were familiar already with the domain but it appears you're no less a stranger than a regular human."

"Regular human?" You repeated. With a hand planted firmly on your bosom, you protested, "But I am a regular human."

He merely chuckled, as if your desperation wasn't noticeable, "You're certainly humble, but you needn't be. We've heard a great number of amazing feats you've performed. Your skill has certainly garnered sufficient attention that even we, the elite of the Devildom, have heard of you." 

"I think there is a misunderstanding-" cut off abruptly by a revelation, you couldn't say much else as you were introduced to a whole novel room of extravagance. A long table was prominently placed within the center of the room, lined with an array of seats, the surface was filled to the brim with a plethora of dishes. 

And here, within this hall, the putrid smell was ever at its highest concentration. You had to seriously, painstakingly fight the urge to to seal your nostrils with cement. 

But the table and the odor weren't the only prominent assets, no, filling the lined chairs were a number, a hasty count told you seven, of individuals seated within them. 

Silver white hair, a creamy purple, brilliant yellow, mellow salamander, flaming orange, and deep blue against white. 'These were the defining physical factors that caught your eye'

\--is what you hoped was the truth, in reality, the absurd hair color had nothing on the otherworldly attachments and appendages that emerged from these special individuals' bodies. Something, else called for your immediate response. 

Someone else sat at the table that stood apart like a cactus would in a winter setting. Not as sorely of course, but more in a center of all attention kind of way. He, with attire you could have never imagined you'd encounter in your lifetime, looked regal above all else. 

Your first thought was that he was royalty. It was the only befitting thought for his passionate red hair melded with his beautiful complexion and striking eyes that looked like plates of pure, melted gold. He wore a pompous amount of gold on his persona, and draped over him was white cloth that looked like the softest, most expensive fabric money could buy. 

Enraptured by his beauty, you could've missed the protruding _horns_ and expanded _wings_. Indeed you were quite at a loss as everyone but you and the host seemed to have such attachments. But when you turned to look at him, suddenly reminded of his presence, you found that it was actually _you_ who stood out more sorely than anyone here. 

You could've sworn when you first laid eyes on him, and when he walked you here, that he did not have two pairs of feathery, ashen wings and twisty horns. Your host, who was speaking but who's words were not being registered by you sent you a sharp look, as if urging you for something. 

You couldn't believe your eyes for even a second. You couldn't accept this kind of reality, no- it had to be a dream, a perplexing dream. Round and round, your head spun from the sheer derision of this encounter, awaiting to be released of this episode that you wished was truly that and only that. 

You wouldn't be able to bear the burden of a reality like this one, it was not within your mental capacity to-

"-s?"

"-iss?"

"Miss, please introduce yourself." 

Every syllable was like a grim and heavy toll of a bell, incurring an ache in your head as you tuned into the present moment. 

It seems you had taken a severe moment to register your observations because your host was urging you for something. 

"Your name, miss?" 

Albeit aimless and confused, you found little to no options other than to comply with what was more of an impatient demand than request. You gave one last and long look to your host and turned to the seated guests, you assumed they were so. 

"Good evening," you curtseyed, keeping your eyes darted ahead, being unable to keep your gaze off such mind boggling sights. Twisted horns, bat like wings, _tails_! You gave your full name and added, "apprentice of Professor Ignatius Psudovix." 

An outburst startled you, "Never heard of him!" It was a rude statement made by the silver haired one at the right of the table. Nevertheless, you gave a trained smile and bowed your head.

"His name has yet to reach some corners of the world." You didn't dare say more, fearing offending what appeared to be the most unpredictable group you'd ever encountered. 

"Well, welcome Miss Psudovix, I'm sure you wouldn't mind us going by your Master's surname?" Asked the regal one. 

You shook your head, "Not at all," and your voice dwindled with the uncertainty of what to refer him as. He looked like a monarch, and yet you couldn't be certain so you hoped someone would address him soon. 

Admist your thinking, he spoke again, "This isn't meant to come off as abrasive, but you're here much earlier than anticipated, is there a reason for that?"

At that you gasped, hand flying to your lips as you inquired, "Was I being expected?" 

Keen glances were shared as tension seemed to be born from thin air. It was as if you had said something wrong, which you concluded you definitely had given their very prolonged silence. 

Then you heard it, a name far too familiar, your skin paled from the mere mention so to have it be said to an actual person made you all the more scandalized. The name was;

" _Lucifer_ "

The regal one had spoken, spoken so casually as you began to violently tremble, in fear, in anticipation, in shock, or disbelief, whatever it was, the single spoken word was the instigator for the discombobulation of your faint comfort. There really was no words to describe the terror that you felt, seeing what you could only appropriately label as _demonic_ appearances before you, as if they knew not what normalcy was-

And the reply, which in itself was likely a name too with questionable roots, was like a toll of finality from the bells of condemnation; 

"Yes, Lord Diavolo?" 


	2. Chapter 2

And it was simply by a given command, rather than offer, that you found yourself seated amongst a plethora of odd people, dining on catastrophically reprehensible entries. The pungent, musky odor was all the more concentrated once it was quite literally, under your nose. 

It burnt your nose hair to a crisp and made your eyes tear up but the group surrounding you seemed indifferent, in fact, the fiery orange head was digging in with a glut of appetite. He had amassed an impressive tower of dishes that was due to fall over soon and yet exhibited no signs of slowing the frenzied eating. Though admittedly what he was engaging in wasn't too far off from being called 'inhaling food' rather than 'eating'. 

You in the meantime, were a striking contrast to the fiery orange head what with your struggle to even look upon your bowl of soup. It had a murky, cloudy appearance and you swore the steaming ingredients floating about were nothing like you'd ever seen before. You were halfheartedly swirling your spoon against the thick liquid when you heard a direct address.

"Miss Psudovix," glancing ahead, you had your neck craned to the right as 'Lord Diavolo' beckoned for your attention; Psudovix wasn't actually your surname but it was what was decided as your formal address by Lord Diavolo himself. 

He leaned into the plush comfort of his chair and rested his arms over the rests; It was as though he were a king and had taken to his throne, gazing around with consideration of a matter at hand. 

You were this particular matter at hand. 

He continued as you brushed away the influence of his regal posture on your focus, "Foremost, I'd like to know how you came to be in the Devildom?" 

You cleared your throat with an 'ahem', abandoning your silverware fully aware that you did not intend to ingest anything that was set in front of you. When you were finished deliberating an appropriate response, you began, "I am afraid that I am as lost as you are in the matter. I do not understand the means of transportation that led to my arrival nor do I recall taking any."

"Did you come into contact with any kind of... arcane figures as of late?" He asked passively and you vehemently shook your head. It was preposterous that you would engage in any kind of fraternizing with necromantic enigmas. The mere notion would make you laugh if only it didn't induce so much contempt and unease.

"Absolutely not, prior to any of this, I was in my home's library." You explained that you had dozed off whilst reading something and woke up on the chilly ground with the mansion, that you were currently in, before you. 

Lord Diavolo released a prolonged hum as if suddenly enlightened and with his index and thumb, cradled his chin. He asked then, "What book were you reading?"

His voice had sounded almost accusatory, as if he had finally traced back the fault of this ordeal to you. Hence you huffed, haughtily answering, "A book on the study of the heliocentric theory." 

Your answer was likely less than satisfactory if his drawn out sigh was any indication. Lord Diavolo rubbed his temple next, seeming almost troubled by this situation, you were quite troubled yourself. But what could you do, riddled with confusion and fear. Taking a step back, you would have called it all ridiculous but the gravity of the situation called for a more serious approach. 

You recalled how...

Lucifer had, once you were inside his abode, began treating you with more friendly decorum and even said some things that indicated you were someone they were expecting. But you were not that someone clearly, which led you to believe they were really awaiting the arrival of someone else entirely. It was very plausible and reasonable conclusion to arrive at. 

It wouldn't be out of the question if Lord Diavolo and the others had also reached this conclusion. And it seemed they had because they all appeared to have a sudden realization. Their features expanded in shock and some even ceased their movement despite being in midst of taking a bite. 

But it wasn't their surprise that troubled you. It was the tension that weaved itself seamlessly into the atmosphere. And tension wasn't alone either, hostility invaded the space and made it easy for your nerves to flare up. 

Lord Diavolo had seemed to have a lively knack for an authoritative, yet reassuring voice, had sounded utterly but when he voiced, "Well, it seems like it's our lucky day." 

Your eyes darted around quickly after the statement, noticing a number of eyes focused on you. There was a certain madness present in their gazes, and if you knew not any better, then you'd identify a sick longing as part of the equation too. 

Fiery orange head spoke next and sounded eager, "Do you mean-?" 

"Yes but you must share" said Lucifer sternly. 

The one with salamander hair giggled, "As much as I'd like to eat her in a completely different way, this works perfectly."

"Don't let Mammon lay a hand on her, he's bound to be his scummy self and take more than his share" said the blond. 

"Hey!" Complained the one who definitely was named Mammon, "If you're concerned about someone taking more of their share, then tell it to Beel!" 

"Quiet, we all know if anyone is going to try to profit from this, it's you," through a yawn said the one with a pillow who also was the one with blue and white hair. 

It seemed that an argument had ensued as they all had began pelting Mammon with insults and slurs, but you couldn't bother to listen too much. After all, you were tasked heavily with trying to convince your trembling body to move into a sprint. But you could not achieve it, you were transfixed on the squabble before you, filled with the daunting 'what ifs'

What if they caught you as you were trying to make an escape?

What if they attacked you in a fit of rage?

What if they actually ate you?

You couldn't really move after all, the fear freezing your body as if it was frostbite but instead had bitten off any sense of resolve or bravery. So when the time came when you tuned in once again, their energy was no longer being fixated on quarreling with one another but rather on you, feeble, little you. 

You let out a scream as something, no... someone dove over the table coming straight for your neck with their jaw hanging wide open. Your reaction to place distance between yourself and the one with wings(they reminded you of a fly), was the kind of response you should have had earlier, the kind of response that was powered by the sheer will to survive by running. 

But that opportunity had passed, you were filled with adrenaline as your chair fell back from the force of your push. The cretin that had leaped into action ended up landing a few feet away as you tried to regain your bearings whilst nursing your shoulder. Amongst the pandemonium of noise, the table clattered violently as you rose to your feet hastily with disregard to your surroundings. 

Your minor victory had completely occupied your mind space and you had entirely forgotten that you were surrounded by another seven, likely equally hostile as your current pursuer with identical intentions. 

Reasoning could be an option, but given their unpredictability, they could very well simply continue to hound you. These were no humans, it was explicitly apparent, they lusted for blood and your flesh and would meet no end where they didn't have you. 

With the desire to see another day causing the erratic pumping of blood in your system, your legs finally remembered to run. And so you did, fixated solely on the doors ahead from where you came through; unfortunately luck was hardly kind to you for you felt a solid force stop you. 

You bounced back as if an invisible wall had repelled your intrusion but when you glanced behind, it was your top skirt that had been in a firm grasp by Lucifer. You gasped, but left no room to waste a single second, pulling with all your might despite the terrible sound of tearing fabric. 

It would've been humiliating if you weren't so plagued by trepidation and panic, but alas, your dress gave away to the strain of two forces pulling away from each other and tore. You cried out as you fell on your knees, crawling in desperation until you stumbled back onto your feet. 

You were reaching for the door, hoping to fling it open and make a dash to the exit but a twist admist the chaos ensued and the door opened before you could reach it. Due to the speed at which you were running at, you couldn't prevent crashing into another someone. This one had a teal strand that stood out against his hair and an envelope in one hand. 

He caught your body and placed a hand on your shoulder as if your landing wasn't anything to be alarmed over. You tried to explain that the scoundrels behind you were meaning to do away with you with their ill intentions but a gloved finger on your lips kept you from uttering so much as a plea. Your pleading eyes darted over his calm face, lips ajar yet with too much to say nothing came about.

Instead during your daze, the envelope flew overhead as he said, "My Lord, there seems to have been a complication."

The white had landed before Lord Diavolo and it dawned on you then that this wasn't an ally either. He had you in his grasp and no amount of budging would get you to be freed.

You missed the exchanged glances between Lord Diavolo, as he finished with reading the contents of the letter, and the one holding you. It was also not to your knowledge that the latter nodded in silent understanding.

A whimper of defeat slipped out and you covered your mouth as you began to weep. You felt cold and alone, and knew it was over. Hence you closed your eyes, bruisingly tight. Hope died instantaneously, broken as if it was a brittle, dried, young bough by the hands of a lumberjack. 

For a precious moment, all was quiet in your head, it was like the quiet before a storm, an incoming storm of pain and torture likely. In this state, a foreign presence appeared as if from thin air and it was fatigue that had taken to overwhelming you. In your spent state you fell asleep or passed out; whichever it had been, it quelled the anxious and horrific experience. 

-

With a start and a hissed gasp, you came upright. You felt restrained at your arms, flailing and twisting until they were freed. You stared at your palms, turned them and then back again, gaining focus only to discover your restraining assailant had been the dense comforter that had now pooled around your hips. 

Warm and gentle sleeves covered your arms, exurbantly white and unfamiliar, as unfamiliar as this bed and ultimately room. Gaze falling to the bed, your eyes made their way to the right of the room. From your peripheral perspective, you could see a seating set stationed towards the center, and the wall which your bed was pressed against, was filled with a line of paintings. A stray bedside table stood against wall along the way to the door, the door where your main focus lay. 

You didn't know if to judge the silence as uncanny or lucky, you were still incredibly shaken from the events that had transpired in your mind. But as you had began to ponder the remnant memories of what you assumed had only been a nightmare, the heavy cries of ravens demanded your attention. To the other end of the room, floorlength damask drapes covered a window. 

You knew it was a window judging by the soft spindles of light seeping from under the drapes. Gingerly, you brought your legs over the bedside facing the obscured window and dismissed the use of slippers, they were no necessity with carpeted floor. There was a sigh that took you moments to register as yours, brought on by the blissful caress of the carpet against your bare feet. 

The drapes were split apart with a flick of your wrists, screech ensuing as brakets rubbed callously against the rod. You squinted despite the faint light from the waxing crescent moon, frowning as you last remembered it had already advanced to its first quarter. Your eyes dared to wonder lower, met with a vast area filled with rich shrubs and flowers of all sorts. 

Your window allowed an expansive view of the outside, with the silhouette of a forest just beyond the skirts of the mansion. The further you pressed your face to the frigid panes, the more fog covered the glass until you had to adjust to better study what was available to view. 

The forest was largely a mass of black against the backdrop of a deep blue sky, but along the outlines, the shapes of slim peaks were visible. The tree tops very much resembled a type of conifer which were not common or bountiful in the area you had been staying at with your Professor. You reached for your journal and pencil, then recalled with a bristled grunt that you would have no idea of its location given that you no longer had the last outfit you had worn. 

Speaking of, what had become of your expensive and comfortable dress? The vague sound of fabric rang in your head distantly along with muddled shouts, then altogether were interrupted by recalling you had the pending matter of your journal. 

You doubted you would recover it to your possession anytime soon, resulting to rummaging all available cabinets and drawers, even wardrobes and chests, in the room. Alas, you turned empty handed in your short lived excursion for something to write on and something to write with. 

Standing at the center, between all comfort furniture, your attention was caught by the door. You locked sights on it but found yourself unable to go to it. An ominous feeling seamlessly slithered into you and stunted your adventurous spirit that had been thriving only moments ago. 

But, what danger could you face opening the door to such a sophisticated vicinity? Perhaps you risked encountering a long corridor and aching feet. The door was reserved for later, in its stead, you occupied the time with looking around the room for any kind of hints as to where you were. 

Given the outside view, you had to be in a rural region, the decor indicated a rather expensive, upper class home. That left still too little answers, but one you could simply not find any kind of rational answer was in regards to the moon. Really, the one explanation that made sense was that you had entered a period of unconsciousness for at most two weeks. 

It occurred to you that you hadn't thought about how you first arrived here, and when you did, a series of sharp pains lashed your mind. You held your head with a grunt, falling to the loveseat as you quit trying to remember. Really the last memory vividly present was the one where you were in the library at Professor Psudovix's estate reading. 

Then you woke up in this foreign room. There seemed to be a gap, whether sizable or miniscule, of how you came to be from the library to this room. You had decided that enough was enough, and that you couldn't answer all questions by yourself. 

With a glance at the clock- 

It was late. A quarter to eleven.  
Most of the streets would be empty an hour earlier and the staff in homes would be retiring for the evening. Would you even come across anyone at this hour? Should you wait in your room?

It was a laughable conflict, you made your decision quickly. 

-

One of the most important lessons the Professor had instilled in you, was that you never wait around for the help you were very much capable of providing for yourself. He always said that until you lost your fingers and toes, and your arms and legs, and finally your mind, that you could always do something.

He had quirky beliefs but had he not gotten you a governess all those years ago (it was the insistence of his mother that made him cave), you probably would have been wondering these strange halls in a scant night gown. The quilt you had made a makeshift shawl of didn't serve the original, modest purpose your governess would have suggested, instead it kept you mostly warm as your feet became stiff from the coolness that surrounded you. 

The candelabra you had lighted to guide you through the dark corridors, served as a torture mechanism as every few seconds, hot wax fell on your hand despite your efforts to dodge. Eventually, the droplets of sun quit hurting and a layer of wax had formed on the knuckle of your thumb. 

Besides that, it had been a rather lengthy and uneventful trek, but at long last did you meet an end. You were a bit surprised at the abrupt ending albeit made the turn instantaneously. It finally felt like you were getting somewhere. 

And you were right as in the following seconds, you came across a staircase. Only the few first steps and the rail were illuminated but beyond was plunged in a deep dark. 

Nothing was visible, no outlines or lumps despite your best efforts to accustom your eyes to the pitch blackness. It was as if you were gazing straight into oblivion, threatening to suck you inside with no hope for escape. You felt it appropriate to opt for another path to explore as downstairs looked so daunting and uncertain. Even if that was the whole house's aura thus far, you still rather take a different corridor than trip and hurt yourself during a clumsy episode trying to walk down the pathetically lit stairs. 

There were two options to take now that you had removed the stairs as a plausible candidate for exploration, those two options laying between the corridor you had only just emerged from, and the opening at the opposite end from where you stood facing. You took favor in the latter, leaving behind the cool to the touch rail and carpeted stairs. 

Keeping mind of the ways you'd taken, you began to formulate a rough idea of what you assumed some part of the second floor looked like. At the top of the dual staircases you had left behind just now, a path broke off into two separate corridors, the corridors were a maze themselves with a disheartening amount of turns. 

You had wondered for so long you felt your eye lids begin to feel the consequences of a lack of sleep. Heaviness suddenly replaced the weightless feeling of your lids and they began to close, complying to your body's demand to rest. 

Detrimentally stubborn, you refused to give into the call for sleep. You were close, you knew it. You knew not what you were close to but definitely felt as if you were at the very end of a wild goose chase. Call yourself a variation of sorts in the sidekick department for you had come across a hall. What the distance held in store was what mattered;

Soft light from under a doorway, it could certainly mean someone had been occupying it. That's not to say all other rooms couldn't have been occupied, but you preferred to disturb someone that wasn't sleeping if that was the case. 

You took a momentary pause to think up what you could say, the things you would need to ask. You, as you walked up to the suddenly menacing door, hoped that this wouldn't be someone difficult to deal with. Of course under the circumstances, you could understand if they were grumpy from the tiredness. So you crept along until you were met with the ricochet of your breaths against the door, a small exhale leaving you as you gently rasped your knuckles against the wood. 

The throbbing of your heart only continued the longer you waited, hearing no kind of action going on behind the plank of wood. It was as you were elevating your hand to once again knock the door, that faint rustling ensued. You stepped back in sudden realization, not wanting to be too close to whoever answered. 

It was relief enough to know they were awake, but it was a bigger relief to see such a gentle looking person greet you after so much commotion in your mind. The door had opened to reveal a significantly, and you stress significant, tall person gazing down at you. While he towered over you, his features were illuminated by your candelabra, the highlighted factor of his being his bright, blond hair. He wore a familiar fitting, embroidered vest and you were almost convinced you were still home, if not at the very least, near by. 

Whether you had gapped for too long or not was left ignored, you spoke with a tone appropriate for the setting and time. The first thing to come from your lips, was an apology for the intrusion, then, you asked, "I'm terribly confused as to where I am." 

The man gave you a long a stare, unreadable mostly, although if you had to guess it almost appeared as though he was waiting for you to say more. Your blank gawk had seemed to finally reveal something to him because he said, "It's cold out here, why don't you come inside" 

At this point, it was silly to adhere to modesties so you stepped inside the quarters upon his extended arm extended in invitation. The first thing you noticed was a familiar scent of old books. You looked around to find piles upon piles of tomes in all sorts of variations; scattered, stacked, shelved -- it was no neat arrangement. 

You scanned the spines, one of the books left open had an image of a skull but you only had so much time to study it before you turned around to your host to be addressed. You extended a palm, customary for greetings. 

You told him your name and mentioned Professor Psudovix, at which halfway through your speech, your palm was grasped quite clumsily and then he stared. He just stared. You were alarmed and taken aback as he messed with your hand until he had a grasp of your fingers. Then, he leaned down and placed a very slow, very awkward kiss on your knuckles. Movement was ceased during the exchange.

You were flabbergasted. You'd had your fair share of displays which all were executed in perfect finesse, but this, this was atrocious. Of course it'd be rude to comment on his gesture, so you brushed it off despite still being shaken. 

Usually the follow up would be an introduction on his end, but he just stood in place with a rigid posture. He had such gentle and kind features, but his demeanor made you the least bit uneasy. You still held hope that he'd answer your questions however, so you decided to be upfront and ask, "I was wondering, could you enlighten me on a few things?"

The first word you had heard from his was a hasty "Yes." That was all. 

You continued, "Ah, in that case. May I begin by asking when exactly are we?"

"You'll have to wait until morning to find that out."

"Oh." You weren't expecting such a disheartening reply but you were fine with it since you'd at least know the answer at some point. Next question, "Do you know how I got here?"

The man shook his head, "My brother will answer that." 

You furrowed your brow, "Is he the only one who knows?" 

He shook his head once again, "Everyone here knows." 

You held off on asking who was everyone and instead brought up the question, "Do you know why I am here?" 

"My brother will answer that too." 

"Is your brother the only one who knows things?" You asked halfheartedly, not expecting a satisfying answer this time around. 

Done as said, he replied, "No, but he will be the one to answer those questions."

You pursed your lip, "Is there anything you can answer?"

"There are a few things, yes," the man nodded. 

"May I have your name?" You inquired, to which he chuckled. 

"You may not have it but you may know it." Staring expectantly as he placed a hand over his chest, he revealed, "My name is Stan." 

"Stan..." you tested it, nodding absentmindedly, "Alright Lord... _Stan_ , I see you have many books."

"Not just many, thousands," he corrected, "in fact, we have a whole library filled with my collection." 

"An avid reader then?" He nodded. Truthfully you were thinking that if he could afford so many books, he had to be quite wealthy. But you had never heard of Lord Stan which begged a new question, "What is your surname?" 

"We are in the House of Lamentation, so I supposed you could go by that." Stan of the House Lamentation, quite morbid...

You would ask about the name later, but familiarizing yourself first with someone would be good. So you walked to a desk, fingers gingerly brushing the worn pages of a book, "Herbology...do you study the field?"

"It's more of a pastime, my brother is the more hands on type." He mentioned, "He's crossbred a few flowers successfully, so I guess I owe him the credit of acknowledgment." 

"Do you have any specimens?" 

"They're all out in the garden, I could show you them when morning comes if you'd like?"

You felt a genuine smile creep up as you said, "Of course, that sounds like a wonderful time." You continued to look around, even coming across a bed hidden behind a wall of stacked tomes. The spiral staircase seemed only lead to more bookshelves so you left it alone. "What is your preferred genre?" You asked, feeling the red velvet cover of a volume. 

"I don't believe I have one- No, maybe it's mysteries, particularly the ones that are intricate." He entered a tangent as he explained his preference, you mostly nodded along politely until he stuttered and cut himself off hastily. He had been going on about crime and mystery when he said, "I find intriguing how you hu-" 

You didn't comment on it, something told you not to. 

When you finished exploring, which he hadn't interrupted all the while, you called from behind the railing in the upper floor and said, "I do not mean to impose anymore than I already have but would it be too much trouble to ask for you to escort me back. I hardly know my way around and just came across your door by luck."

"It'd be my pleasure," he called back, having seemed to become accustomed to your short and curious presence. 

-

As you were returning, you piped up, "Thank you for allowing me to look around, you have many books of which I have personally read." 

"Is that so? Maybe we can discuss them while I show you the garden."

"I think that would be lovely, I am glad we share an interest for reading." You smiled, the candlelight creating a gentle and warm glow almost befitting the mood. For someone so awkward, Stan sure exuded a gentle and soft aura when he spoke in his element; literature. 

"My brothers do as well but I've yet to have any meaningful discussions with them about stories." Stan said, almost a little desolate. 

"Do they have differing tastes?" 

"Yes, one is too busy to really do anything outside of work, the other is a disgusting and disgraceful scum bag who gambles his money away."

"So you are three then?" Three brothers, you had to wonder if they were all as handsome. The other obvious thing was his blatant criticism of the second mentioned. The 'scum bag' sounded revolting but not just due to the scathing review of him, Stan's voice tone was absolute in destroying any good impression you might have of the latter mentioned. You would have been convinced if you hadn't been taught that you should know someone first before forming any opinion, much less prejudice, towards them. 

But back to your earlier query, Stan said something surprising, "I actually have six brothers." Immediately you thought, 'poor mother' but you hadn't much time to pity the unknown woman and her array of child births. Stan continued, "the following one is a recluse, then my younger brother can only be described as a womanizer, the next one just spends his time eating, and my youngest brother you'll hardly see as he is asleep for the most part."

"Have you no sisters then?" You mentioned but regretted it immediately. Despite the poor lighting, the yellow glow was enough to illuminate the bittersweet smile on his face that told you enough to retract your question. 

The conversation didn't continue from there on, and it was fine as you had reached your designated room by then. You wished him a restful night and closed the door only after he disappeared down the hall. 

You hadn't anticipated such a vague interaction at first, but you were glad you had at least gotten to know someone. He had left you mostly unsatisfied but did confirm one reassuring thing--your questions would be answered come morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Dos is out after three centuries of inactivity. 
> 
> Stan=Satan
> 
> Satan is a fanatic of human culture, hence why he tried to perform the formal greeting between a man and woman in the 17th century. As you can tell, he doesn't have much practice. 
> 
> Just wait for how I butcher the names of the other six. We won't be seeing their real names in the story for another (insert random time period).

**Author's Note:**

> I don't use y/n, mc, or reader because I personally believe it obstructs the fluidity of my writing. Rest assured I didn't trick you into reading an OC story, this is a Reader insert where your name is applicable.
> 
> 'Miss Psudovix' is more of a title than anything, a stand in for y/n if you will. I won't be writing out "you said your name" every time the character has to say their name because that's silly. 
> 
> Thank you for finishing Chapter 1, of Arc 1


End file.
